


I Am Sorry, My Dear Sniper

by orphan_account



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Last Moments, M/M, Phone Call, maybe a lil bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to sound casual on the phone isn't so easy when you're shot and bleeding out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Sorry, My Dear Sniper

Spy staggered into the room, right hand clasped to the throbbing wounds in his gut, the other feeling along the wall in the darkness. 

He found the light switch. A quick flick of the finger, and they stuttered to life. Spy squinted slightly, grey-blue eyes readjusting to his surroundings. 

The walls were wallpapered a gaudy shade of pink, with mismatched furniture littering the place. It didn't matter though, not to Spy.

The phone. He needed to find the phone. Time was running out. 

Spy located the device around the next corner, forcing his feet to take step after painful step towards it. Every movement jolted his already severe wounds, sending sharp pain searing through his body. He gritted his teeth and continued onwards. 

When he finally reached the little table which the telephone sat atop, he paused to catch his breath. 

Who knew it was that hard breathing with a punctured lung? Without a medigun or respawn to aid him, he'd almost forgotten what real danger had been like, what _real pain_ felt like. That damed feeling; burning through his body, causing him, a trained veteran, to wince and lose composure. To show _weakness_. 

He had screwed up, and bad. 

Red was saturating his undershirt, an unpleasant squishiness beneath his fingers. Probably clotting blood, not fast enough to stem the flow. He tried to keep as much of it in as he could, but nothing would stop more of it seeping into the garments he wore with every passing minute. 

Spy braced his shoulder against the wall, reaching for the receiver. Shaky fingers punched in the number he knew so well. 

Then he waited. 

After a moment's silence, he heard the other side pick up. 

"Who the hell calls at this bloody hour?" The infuriated voice started, the accent unmistakably Australian, "Look mate, in case you're some nocturnal lunatic, let me just be the first to remind you that most blokes like myself are _in bed_ at four-thirty in the morning."

Spy dragged in a breath. His chest stung as he did so. 

"Sniper, it's me."

A slight pause. 

"...Spook? Are you on one of Miss Paulin's bloody missions again?"

"Yes...I am." He managed. He had to act normal. He had to hide the pain. 

Sniper grumbled. "I've got to have a word with her. Sending you on these missions at such ungodly hours is doing my head in."

Spy chuckled. Well, he tried to. "Indeed mon ami, it appears so. At least the pay is good."

The other man scoffed. "The pay's only half decent if you factor in never being able to see each other when you want to anymore."

Spy smiled. "I can't argue with truth."

"So, now that you got me all up and awake, what are ya looking for?"

Spy's smile faltered. He didn't want to alarm the man. He wanted his last moments to be pleasant. Just as ordinary as the life he never had. 

_'Last moments.'_ That was a phrase he didn't think he'd be using anytime soon. At least, not for real. Not actual death, no, that was never supposed to happen while he worked here. He wasn't supposed to die, but here he was anyway. A pathetic figure marinating in a stew of his own blood. How tasteful. 

"...Nothing. I'm not looking for anything. I just wanted to hear your voice. It... Comforts me." 

"Comforts you?" Spy could just see Sniper's brow knitting together, just how it always did when he was trying to figure something out.

"Spook, what's wrong?" Spy could sense a hint of genuine concern in Sniper's voice. 

"Nothing. Everything's fine." 

"You know, that's what some sheilas say and they're always lying when they say it."

Spy twitched.

"How was the battle today?" he started, "I apologise for my absence."

Sniper sighed. "Don't try to change the topic, Spy. Tell me what's going on."

Ah Sniper, as stubborn as ever. 

"Nothing's wrong." He lied again.

A slight pause. 

"Where are you?"

Spy looked out of the window. It was dark, but he could just barely make out he glow of street lights in the distance. 

"Some run down motel just outside of Teufort. Nothing fancy."

"That's unlike you. S'far as I know, you always go for the posh places. Though, I think I know the one. Hold tight, I'll be right over." The sound of Sniper stumbling around his camper van reached Spy's ears.

"No, don't do that."

His eyes flicked back down. The blood was staining a good portion of his suit by now. A shame, really. It was his favourite one. 

"It's fine. I'm fine. Just stay where you are."

"You don't sound fine." 

It was true; he really wasn't. Having three bullets buried in your abdomen and one barely missing your heart doesn't tend to leave many people 'fine' afterwards. Spy sighed. 

"Look, Sniper... I don't know how much time I have left."

He heard Sniper pause, heard the other man freeze, breath hitch in his throat.

"...you're hurt, aren't you."

There was no more point in lying anymore. Spy gave in.

"Yes."

"Dammit spy-"

"Don't bother. Don't bother..." he sucked a breath through his teeth, "...trying to find me. It'll be too late, by the time you get here. I don't... I don't want you seeing me like this. I want you to remember me as I was... when I was alive."

Silence. 

"...Sniper?"

Yet more silence. 

"No."

There was a waver in Sniper's voice. A falter in his otherwise commanding tone. 

"No. You are _not_ dying on me. Y'hear?"

A solemn expression crossed Spy's face, "I...wish that were true." He removed one of his supple leather gloves, turning his shaking hand over to inspect it. Blue tips.

He could feel his heartbeat failing, however hard it was trying to make up for lost blood. His hands shaking ever so slightly as he kept the receiver to his ear, shallow breaths leaving thin wisps of white blooming in the frigid air. 

"Listen. I need you... I need you to do this for me."

He took in yet another rattling breath, chest heaving with the effort.

"I need you... to live a good life. I need you to find... find someone you love, settle down... and be happy. I need you to stay alive, for me. Don't be as... stupid as I was." 

He coughed. Blood dripped down his lip. His lungs were filling up. 

"No. Spy you have to hold on, please, don't give up now. Don't give up on me." 

He could hear the sniper fumbling for his keys, the sound of the van rearing to life an oddly reassuring sound to Spy's ears. 

"I'm on my way now, I'll be there soon; don't you do anything stupid before I get there, _please-_ "

"I'm... sorry, sniper," he whispered, "I love you. Cher... I love you so much. Please, remember that. Remember me."

"Spy-" 

He clicked the phone back down, heaving a final breath as he allowed himself to slump against the wall. His blood smudged against it as his legs gave way; an ugly mark against an otherwise immaculate surface. 

He couldn't bear to hear any more from the man. Couldn't bear to hear him get angry, words becoming sharp with the sting of grief. It's better this way, he decided. That his last memories with Sniper will be that of a carefree man, rather than the sad figure that will leave this room tonight.

He was selfish, yes, leaving Sniper like this. But it was for the better. He didn't want the other man seeing him struggle like this.

The last of his remaining energy disappeared. He felt his eyelids growing heavy, the breaths coming shallower with each second. His grip on his abdomen loosened as the world finally spun to a stop. He was ready. 

"Je suis désolé...mon cher tireur isolé." 

 

Then everything became nothing.


End file.
